Chapter 6
The rain had turned into a steady, gray drizzle by the time Elena stepped out of the glass sliding doors of Terminal B into the damp Newark air. The city skyline across the bay flickered through the haze like a circuit board with loose connections. Marcus held a black umbrella over her head as they walked toward an unmarked federal sedan idling near the curb.
"You pushed him hard in there," Marcus said, opening the passenger door for her. "Pendelton isn't used to being backed into a corner. He usually has three layers of corporate insulation between himself and the actual investigators."
Elena slid into the leather seat, the warmth of the cabin washing over her chilled hands. She placed her leather handbag carefully on her lap and rested her fingers on the latch. "People like Pendelton spend their entire lives believing that money is a substitute for gravity. They think if they build enough walls of arbitration clauses and PR spin, they can float above the consequences of their own negligence. But gravity always wins in the end, Marcus. It’s just a matter of how high you let them climb before you cut the rope."
The sedan pulled away from the terminal curb, merging into the late-night traffic on the interstate toward Manhattan. The rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers kept time with the silent thoughts spinning through Elena’s mind. She pulled out her phone and checked the encrypted feed from Thomas Gable, the whistleblower who had risked his entire career and personal safety to smuggle the maintenance logs out of the Meridian hangar.
Gable’s message was brief: They’re pulling the remaining planes out of service in Atlanta and Dallas. The FAA just grounded the entire 737-800 fleet nationwide.
Elena let out a long, slow breath—the first truly relaxed exhalation she had managed since boarding the flight six hours ago. The systemic corruption she had fought for three long years—ever since the wreckage of Flight 412 was pulled from the jagged canyons of Colorado—was finally being dragged into the harsh, uncompromising light of federal scrutiny. Yet there was no triumphant surge of joy in her chest, only a deep, settling fatigue. The legal battle was far from over; Meridian’s high-priced defense attorneys would spend the next year filing motions, demanding appeals, and attempting to discredit Gable in federal court.
"Where to, Counselor?" Marcus asked, glancing at her in the rearview mirror as they crossed the George Washington Bridge, the suspension cables glistening like silver threads in the glow of the overhead lamps. "Back to the office? Or do you actually plan on getting four hours of sleep before the grand jury depositions start at eight?"
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"Drop me off at the brownstone on 81st," Elena said, looking out the rain-streaked window at the distant lights of the city. "And Marcus? Have the federal marshals place a round-the-clock detail on Gable’s apartment in Queens. Meridian’s legal team might be facing criminal indictments now, but desperate men do desperate things when their entire empire is unraveling."
Marcus nodded, his expression grim. "Already handled. Two agents have been stationed outside his building since midnight. He’s safe."
